CHAPTER XXIV--ON SOME COUNTRY SNOBS.
Tired of the town, where the sight of the closed shutters of the nobility, my friends, makes my heart sick in my walks; afraid almost to sit in those vast Pall Mall solitudes, the Clubs, and of annoying the Club waiters, who might, I thought, be going to shoot in the country, but for me, I determined on a brief tour in the provinces, and paying some visits in the country which were long due.
My first visit was to my friend Major Ponto (H.P.of the Horse Marines), in Mangelwurzelshire.

The Major, in his little phaeton, was in waiting to take me up at the station.

The vehicle was not certainly splendid, but such a carriage as would accommodate a plain man (as Ponto said he was) and a numerous family.

We drove by beautiful fresh fields and green hedges, through a cheerful English landscape; the high-road, as smooth and trim as the way in a nobleman's park, was charmingly chequered with cool shade and golden sunshine.

Rustics in snowy smock-frocks jerked their hats off smiling as we passed.